


i didn't see the lights

by harperuth



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Background Richie Tozier/Eddie Kaspbrak, Comedy, Crack Treated Seriously, Gen, M/M, Meet-Cute, Unreliable Narrator, low key and played down suicidal ideation, minor hauntings, yes bill is writing for off-brand ghost adventures
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-28
Updated: 2020-07-28
Packaged: 2021-03-06 02:28:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25565887
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/harperuth/pseuds/harperuth
Summary: “It’s eating you?” Georgie yelled.“Not me, me,” Bill curled up in the pantry, "It eats my issues."Georgie was silent for several minutes, "At least we know it won’t starve."
Relationships: Bill Denbrough/Mike Hanlon
Comments: 2
Kudos: 23





	i didn't see the lights

**Author's Note:**

> i decided i wanted to write an it fic and also decided it had to be the silliest bike in the world
> 
> this was written in a few hour fever dream so any mistakes are mine, and the concept and all the best ideas are k's
> 
> title is from 'finding something to do' by hellogoodbye

Bill called Georgie first.

“Please stop laughing,” He yelled down the phone after five minutes. Georgie didn’t stop. He hung up.

“I’m fine, I’m good,” Georgie gasped when he called back twenty minutes later.

“Your brother’s an asshole,” His new friend commented. Bill winced.

“Nice apology,” He snapped, closing himself in the bathroom. His new friend manifested right behind him. For fuck’s sake.

“I knew that job was going to kill you one day,” Georgie said, _still_ not apologizing, “But I figured Brooks was going to punch you out and snap your neck by accident.”

“Fuck you,” Bill said, both to Georgie and staring in the mirror at his new friend. His new friend did a backflip and flipped him off. Great.

“Does it have a name?” Georgie asked.

His friend pouted, “I could have a _pronoun_ , you know.”

Bill sighed, “What’re your pronouns?”

“I don’t have any,” It smirked.

“He/him, prick,” Georgie said. Bill could hear him smirking through the phone.

“Fuck off,” He said. A pretty good answer to the both of them.

“Cry about it,” His friend said.

“Name?” Bill snapped his fingers.

“Absolutely not,” It said.

“It doesn’t have a name,” Bill thunked his head against the mirror. He did it again just for the satisfaction. It crept closer and peered at the point of impact.

“Do it harder,” It said, sounding bored. Bill wanted to scream.

“You should call it Assbag,” Georgie said.

“This is why you didn’t get to name the gerbils,” Bill said.

“Fucking GERBILS,” Assbag yelled.

\- - -

Assbag _loved_ Richie.

“Fucking typical,” Bill muttered, white knuckling his mug. He was stuck in the kitchen because Eddie had come over. He and Richie hadn’t made it farther than the entrance way of the apartment, which was right next to the kitchen door and there was no way Bill was putting himself in the middle of that. Again.

“Bill,” Assbag came zooming back into the kitchen. For all that it seemed to be incorporeal, Assbag _loved_ coming through doorways, “Bill. Bill, Bill, Bill—”

“What,” Bill hissed, hoping he wasn’t heard. He loved Richie. He loved Eddie. He couldn’t fucking _stand_ Eddie&Richie.

“Bill, we need to find a way to transfer me,” Assbag said, begged even, “The most tightly wound man I’ve ever seen is in the hallway and he looks like a _feast_.”

“A feast,” Bill repeated blankly, “You eat?”

“Well, yeah,” Assbag blinked, actually looking confused for the first time since Bill had ‘met’ him, “What do you think I’m doing here?”

\- - -

“It’s _eating_ you?” Georgie yelled.

“Not _me_ , me,” Bill curled up in the pantry, whispering so Eddie and Richie couldn’t hear him. They’d come into the kitchen before he could escape.

“You’re not getting a fucking cat,” Eddie snapped when Bill tuned back in briefly.

“I’d be great with cats,” Richie said, “I hang out with you all the time.”

“What the _fuck_ does that mean?” Eddie said. Bill tuned back out.

“It eats my issues,” Bill sighed.

Georgie was silent for several minutes. Eddie and Richie moved on to a spirited argument about Warrior Cats. Bill knew that neither of them had ever read Warrior Cats. Assbag was probably out in the kitchen, because he wasn’t next to Bill anymore.

“At least we know it won’t starve,” Georgie finally said.

A can of soup fell off the shelf and hit Bill’s shoulder, “Fuck.”

\- - -

Bill opened the phone book to ‘G’.

“You’re fucking serious,” Assbag said, floating parallel above Bill’s desktop, facing him. Half his body was through the wall. Bill was very carefully not looking at him, “A fucking _phone book_.”

He paged around to ‘Gh’.

Assbag groaned, a sound that filled the room like rotting wood in an old house, “You’re looking up _ghost_ in the phone book.”

Bill ignored him. 

“You know what,” Assbag sighed, “I can’t believe this, but I’m going to help you. I want to eat the aura of that tight little man so badly.”

“Please never, ever call Eddie tight again,” Bill choked, but lifted his hands when the phone book pages started to flip themselves.

“Eddie,” Assbag said dreamily, “I’m going to _devour_ him.”

“I’d say I can’t believe I live with two of you,” Bill looked at the new page open in front of him at ‘Paranormal Oddities and Objects: Mike Hanlon 555-0843’, “But you’re much more self aware than Richie is.”

“Oh, for sure,” Assbag agreed, “I’ve been snacking on his repression when I’m bored. It’s so prolific I don’t even need to be bonded to him for it.”

“We’re leaving _now_ ,” Bill said.

“It’s three am!” Assbag called as Bill walked out the door.

\- - -

“Hi,” A new voice woke Bill. He sat up, blinking at the dawn light. He was outside. It was cold. Assbag was sat in his lap, dozing contentedly.

The most beautiful man in the world was looking down at him.

“Did you need directions to the shelter? It’s very close,” The most beautiful man in the world was _speaking_ to him. Bill stared. Assbag woke up. It’d probably never been sleeping, the prick.

“Asdigi,” Bill said. Assbag sat straight up and passed through Bill’s head. It was like being tazed. Bill woke up, “I’m— Mike Hanlon.”

“Took the words right out of my mouth,” Beautiful man smiled, and Bill stopped breathing.

“Holy shit,” Assbag said. Mike looked around briefly, a frown pulling at his smile.

“I’ve got an entity,” Bill blurted, and wanted nothing more than to kick himself in the face.

“Hm,” Mike Hanlon looked around once more, eyes resting fractionally on Assbag, before coming back to Bill’s face, “Why don’t you come inside.”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” Bill chanted subvocally when Mike turned his back to unlock his door.

“You’re an absolute tragedy,” Assbag said, delighted. Mike twitched when he spoke. Bill stared up at the dreary sky. A raindrop hit him in the eye. Assbag curled around his stomach. Bill resolutely did not think about how he was contorting himself to achieve that, “I’ve changed my mind, I’m staying.”

“An entity, hm?” Mike asked, ushering him through his newly unlocked door. The interior of his shop was dark and cozy, shelves lining every wall filled with too many things for Bill to register on how little sleep he was operating.

“It’s eating me,” Bill said.

“You look remarkably whole for that,” Mike looked Bill up and down. Bill tripped and fell on his face.

“Ow,” He muttered into the floor. It was a nice floor. Original hardwood, if he had to guess. Parquet. 

Mike hauled him back upright, “Are you alright?”

“Strong,” Bill said dazedly.

“Stop, stop,” Assbag gasped, doubled over with laughter, “Even I can’t eat this much.”

Mike laughed, “Yeah, entities can be nasty.”

“It’s name is Assbag,” Bill said, grateful for once at being misinterpreted. 

“You named it?” Mike looked up sharply from the shelf he’s been poring over once he’d gotten Bill on his own two feet.

“My brother did,” Bill said, “It’s why he wasn’t allowed to name the gerbils.”

“I had a rabbit,” Mike replied, smiling at Bill, even through the concern. Bill wanted very much to taste that smile. Assbag was spinning like a top between them, “His name was Thumper.”

Bill was going to die here.

“Blackbeard,” Bill said faintly, “And Flint.”

“Treasure Island,” Mike’s smile got bigger. Bill was going to _die_.

“Yeah,” He said.

“This is the greatest day of my existence,” Assbag declared.

\- - -

“An object,” Mike finally declared, several books, and one item that could only be described as a tome later.

“Wha—” Bill looked up from where he was definitely not staring at Mike’s hands, one of which was clad in a dust glove and handling pages like they were something precious. Bill wrote books, and he was firmly in the camp of ‘books were something to be loved and destroyed’. He was reconsidering that stance. Actively.

“The curse was passed from an object. I think I can reverse it if I have it,” Mike either didn’t notice Bill’s preoccupation or was too polite to mention it.

“Bastard,” Assbag hissed.

“Oh shit,” Bill said, finally catching up to his words, “I can’t.”

“You...can’t?” Mike’s head tilted at an incredible angle. Bill stared at his neck.

“It’s at the studio,” Bill said.

“Studio?” Mike asked.

“I—” Bill dropped his head in his hands, “I know what it is. I found it scouting for my job.”

“Oh!” Mike sounded excited, “Well, that’s easy enough. We just go to your studio.”

“Not mine,” Bill groaned, “Television studio.”

“What do you do?” Mike asked. Bill wanted to slam his head through a plate glass window. Assbag continued to spin happily next to him.

“I, uh, write for a television show,” Bill hedged, “On Travel Channel.”

“What show?” Mike asked. Of course he did. Bill didn’t have any kind of luck in the world. His job had gotten him into this mess and it was going to certainly take him out, whether by curse or sheer embarrassment.

“Please,” Assbag pleaded, “Say it. Just say it out loud, I am BEGGING.”

“Ghoul Hunt?” He squeaked.

\- - -

“Does anything ever get filmed here?” Mike whispered. Assbag cackled. Bill wanted to die.

“Not really, just—” He paused and listened carefully for the security guard. The security guard _hated_ him. He tried to pretend it didn’t have anything to do with him not knowing her name, “Just some voice over stuff. Object b-roll. Hence.”

He gestured around them.

He hated this fucking job. But, it paid the bills between declining sales for a first hit and shit sales at all for a second miss. 

“You know,” Mike sounded excited. Bill, in a continuing theme of his life as of a week or so ago, wanted to die, “I never would’ve thought Ghoul Hunt had a writer. Zeke always sounds so stream of consciousness.”

“Yeah,” Bill peered around the corner to check if the door of the prop room was clear, “It was in the first few seasons. Then they got busy and had to hire some writers. It’s a bitch and half to emulate.”

“You do it very well,” Mike said. Bill fell into the, thankfully empty, hallway. He scrambled back up before Mike could touch him again and destroy his brains even further.

“Congrats, you write like an ego-inflated douchebag,” Assbag whispered in his ear. Bill flinched.

“This way,” He pushed open the door to the prop room, not looking to see if Mike followed. He poked at a few dolls and pushed a Game Cube out of the way to grab a planner off the shelf. It was a 2019 planner, which felt all the more ridiculous for what was happening to him, “Here it is.”

“Hm,” Mike turned it over in his hands and Bill considered every possible route up to the roof to throw himself off of it, “Interesting.”

“Oh?” Bill couldn’t deal with standing anymore and let himself drop cross-legged to the floor. Mike followed him much more gracefully.

“The cover says 2019,” Mike opened it up and flipped through a few pages, leaving it open on a particular date, “But the binding itself is much more likely to be from the early 1900’s, and look, it says today is Tuesday.”

“I’m...assuming it’s not,” Bill said.

“It’s Friday,” Mike said dryly.

“Right,” Bill nodded.

“You’re the best meal I’ve ever _had_ ,” Assbag sounded giddy.

\- - -

“Do you want to get dinner, after this?” Mike asked. Bill dropped the planner.

“What?” He was pretty sure he was hearing things. Maybe Assbag had picked up the ability to mimic. Who knew?

“Would you like to get dinner? With, uh, with me?” Mike said again. Bill stared at him. He might have been blushing. Bill kept staring, “Well, I’m going to take that as a, um, no.”

“Yes!” Bill blurted.

“That’s fine!” Mike assured, “I’m still going to un-curse you. No worries.”

“No, I meant,” Bill rubbed at his eyes. They were burning from the lack of sleep, “I meant, yes. I’d like to get dinner with you. Fuck.”

“I try to save making someone swear for the third date,” Mike said, a wry grin on his face.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Bill said again.

Assbag made a sound like a deflating balloon, “Typical. You had to find a well-adjusted one.”

“Please, can we get rid of him,” Bill begged, “I don’t think I can hang out with you with his commentary much longer.”

\- - -

Assbag’s last act was to seize Bill by the collar and look into his eyes. It felt like staring into all of existence. He said, “Promise me you’ll give me to Eddie.”

“I’ll give you to Eddie,” Bill repeated tonelessly.

“You won’t,” Mike said, and finished the ritual.

\- - -

Bill woke up with his face mashed to a hardwood floor. It was nice. Parquet.

Oh, fuck.

“He’s fine,” A voice filtered in. Mike’s voice. Oh, _fuck_ , “He kind of passed out? It doesn’t look like he sleeps a lot.”

A pause. Then, “Yeah, I recognize the type. I’ll tell him you called. Uh-huh. Thanks.”

“Mrphgm,” Bill groaned.

“I had dinner delivered,” Mike said, voice much closer than before, “Also, your phone wouldn’t stop ringing so I answered it. Georgie says hi.”

“He can fuck right off,” Bill garbled. Mike laughed, rich and loud, filling the space. Bill pushed himself upright, head spinning, “Whatever he said is a fucking lie.”

“So you can’t put your feet behind your head?” Mike asked, and fucking _winked_. Bill was going to _die_.

“Well,” He faltered. The shop smelled like patchouli and General Tso’s, “Georgie’s been known to sprinkle in the occasional truth between falsehoods.”

Mike laughed again, “I do have to say, your brother’s kind of an asshole.”

“He has his moments,” Bill smiled back.

**Author's Note:**

> Bill finally looked more closely at the shop now that the food was hitting his stomach, sugar bubbling through his bloodstream. He blinked several times, "Is that a totem pole?"
> 
> "Oh," Mike blushed, "Um. Well, yes."
> 
> "Mike," Bill stared at it, "Even Ghoul Hunt doesn't fuck around with Native religions."
> 
> "It's a long story?" Mike tried. Bill shifted his stare to him. Mike deflated, "Okay, yeah. Um."
> 
> "I will call someone who knows someone," Bill patted his knee.
> 
> \- - -
> 
> i will never let go of an opportunity to poke fun at it ch2 mike sorry
> 
> come yell at me on twitter [@floralpunkcfb](https://twitter.com/floralpunkcfb). its usually about robots but hey, clowntown creeps in.


End file.
